


And Everything Nice

by Einhorn



Series: A Little Bit Off The Mark [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Dissociation, Fluff, Gen, Stimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3794902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Einhorn/pseuds/Einhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It felt nice to have things, after living a life with nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Everything Nice

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo yeah this is the first fic I've got in a small series exploring Sera's neurodivergency. I've got a few planned that I'm gonna do slowly. I relate heavily to her and her symptoms mirror my own (i'm autistic and adhd), so some of these are based off my own experiences. I will be doing another fic or two based off the dialogue in her journal, if I have the spoons for it that is.   
> If you're curious about what I headcanon her having aside from ADHD and autism, send me a note.
> 
> CW for some reclaimed ableist language and unreality. 
> 
> Sorry if the formatting is weird, I use google docs to write and just copy+paste.

The book was large, a nice weight upon Sera’s lap. The cover was plain leather and worn a bit around the edges, but otherwise new. It felt smooth under her hand when she stroked it, dragging her hand across the material until she hit a rough patch. Her breath hitched slightly at the change in texture.

Biting her lip thoughtfully, Sera trailed her fingers to the edge of the huge book. She thumbed the cover for a moment before opening it. A grin spread across her face when she saw its contents--nothing, except for a singular line. 

Delivered: one cabinet suitable for a lady’s curiosities, if resources should be spent on such things.

It was signed by Ser Morris. Clearly, its original intended use had been documenting incoming shipments of supplies. Before Sera had snitched it, of course. The grin on her face widened as she reached for the quill and inkpot she’d placed upon the small table in her room.

Right below the message, Sera scribbled:

Eat it, Morrisss. Stuff needs a place .

The penmanship was absolutely atrocious, but she did not care. The big book with the lovely soft leather cover was hers. Except she didn’t know what to use it for. 

“Well that was bloody smart of me,” she grumbled to herself, shoving her quill into the inkpot with more force than she’d planned for, nearly knocking it over. “Ugh!”

Sera set the big book aside for a moment, leaning back on the cushions that covered the room’s window seat. She squinted at the bright sunlight streaming through the shutters and absentmindedly shook her hands, feeling unusually relaxed. 

Her attention wandered away from the book. She hummed thoughtfully, eyes roaming about her room as she tried to think of something to do. All her duties related to the Inquisition were long since completed. The Inquisitor herself was away on a visit to some shitty magic place that Sera was very glad she’d had the thought to leave the elf out of. Dorian and Lady Vivvy had gone with her, so she was out both playmate and prank target. They’d be back the next day, though.

She shook her hands again, this time with a little bit more force. The memory of Lady Emmauld berating her for doing so flashed across her mind, and Sera cringed. “Bitch,” she growled. Her anger was short-lived though, and she returned to the task at hand.

Her eyes resumed glancing about her room, trying to find  something , anything, to alleviate her boredom. Her left hand absentmindedly went to touch the soft leather of the book cover--and her eyes lit up.

“Stuff needs a place,” she echoed the words she’d written in it before, “this room has a lot of stuff.”  I should record it all, Sera mused to herself,  Suppose that’s what it was meant for, right?

She stood up and wandered over to the closest pile of Stuff and grabbed the first thing on top. It was a banner, one she’d stolen from somewhere. Her long fingers wandered over the soft fabric, on which the emblem of the Circle was sewn in bright colors. She’d planned on cutting it up to use to patch some of the more rattier pillows on her room, but it was too soft to waste. 

Sera set the banner down and picked the book--journal, she’d decided--up and settled it back in her lap. She flipped it open to a new page and reached for her quill again, putting it to the smooth paper and writing;

Banner. Circle, soft .

She admired the words for a moment or so before embellishing the edge of the paper with a doodle of a butt, giggling as she did so. Now the book was  really  hers. “Perfect,” she crowed, and raised her quill to draw another but was interrupted by a knock on her door.

“What is it?” she yelled, “It had better be good, cos’ I’m  busy .” Thick brows furrowed into a scowl and grey eyes narrowed.    
“A package,” a nervous-sounding voice replied, “from an anonymous sender.” 

Sera scrunched up her nose. “It’d best not be poisonous,” she grumbled as she put book and quill aside, “ that  would put a damper on my otherwise  fun morning.” 

She pulled the door on her room open to see a Inquisition recruit standing in the hallway. He was holding a tube of some sort, which was quickly thrust into Sera’s grasp.

It was of thick paper, fortified with something to prevent it from caving in. Tiny holes were poked into the ends, which was.....disconcerting somewhat. The city elf cocked her head and raised her eyebrows at the messenger, who shrugged and said, "I was just told to bring it here. The postmaster dropped it off this morning."

Sera studied the package. It was unmarked except for the holes, and her suspicions doubled. She wasn't at all new to such attempts--it was expected, really, considering her line of "work"--and always wondered how she hadn't lost her life sooner. She squinted at the recruit.

"I don't know what it is!" He said hurriedly, "I swear on Andraste's--"

"Alright, alright, quit your blathering," Sera rolled her eyes, "If I die, you're paying for the funeral. Now piss off, I'm  busy ."

The recruit hurriedly tipped his helmet at her and whirled around to march back down into the tavern, where Sera suspected he'd be ordering a stiff drink. She thumbed the package and considered throwing it out the door after him, but curiosity killed the cat as they always said.

She flounced back to her comfortable cushions with the tube and threw herself onto them with a flop, where she began to pick at the laces that held the package closed. Slender fingers made quick work of them and she pulled the top off to peer into it.

A pair of beady yellow eyes stared at her. Sera barely had a chance to blink before whatever it was took its chance and leapt to freedom, landing on the poor elf's face and making her screech.

"Shite!" She yelled, grasping at whatever it was, and exclaiming "Andraste's  tits  that feels wrong!" When her hands came in contact with rough scaly hide. Her entire body shuddered at the feeling and Sera shoved it back into the tube, replacing the top quickly. 

The lizard scuffled around for a bit before settling down. She'd have to find something better to put it in later, couldn't have it suffocating now, could she? Even though the package did seem to have tiny air holes poked into t.

She shuddered again, shaking her hands violently to dispel the bad feeling that had settled on her palms and into her gut. "Who'd send me a fuckin' lizard?" She grumbled, "Hate that nonsense, feels rough and weird and wrong. But," she lit up, "it was sent  to  me, so that shit's mine now, innit?" 

Her lips split into a grin. Hands reached for the big leather book and a quill again and the tube of lizard was tossed to the side, plans already being made in her head for its intended use.  

Lizard. Rough and weird. 

She paused her scribbling for a moment, the added,  Shove it into the egg man's bedroll. 

"That'll teach him," Sera sniggered. Her attention drifted away from the scaly beast and instead took to imagining various Solas-with-lizard-in-bedroll scenarios. She hoped he screeched like a cat that got its tail stepped on. Make him quake in his elfy boots.

Speaking of elfy, for some reason there was a statuette of a Halla sitting on a shelf in Sera’s little corner of Skyhold. The deer held no meaning to her, as she’d rejected elfy elf-ness long ago, but there it was all the same. The painted wood was smooth in her hands, so she’d been loathe to toss it out the window. She was a sucker for soft things. 

So, into the book it went. 

Halla. Fake. Real ones stink .

The only time Sera had met a Halla was when she’d been tiny--very tiny, perhaps five years of age, when she was still living in Denerim’s alienage. Some visiting Dalish had brought one with them and were letting it wander around, and Sera had found herself nose-to-knees with the beast. It had smelled bad.  Real  bad, so bad that the stink had rubbed off onto her somehow and she hadn’t been allowed into the tiny hovel she shared with three other children for two nights until it wore off. Not the best of memories. 

As she put the Halla statue back on its shelf, her hand twitched violently, and knocked into a deck of cards. They all went flying, landing on the ground in a fan of colors and little pictures. “Stupid tics,” Sera groaned, “thought I’d be growing out of those, but nooo, they’ve come back to haunt lucky ol’ me.” 

She bent to pick them up, grumbling about her clumsiness and the fact that she’d have to spend hours sorting all the cards again. They were pretty little things, little squares of paper painted with scenery of some sort. One of them in particular caught her eye--a dark scene with cliffs and lightning and green. 

Sera studied it for a moment, then realized that it was, in fact, a painting of the Fade. A chill ran down her spine as memories of being trapped in that place began to flood through her, and she shut her eyes, but there was no escaping the feeling of falling, falling falling, drowning, of demons touching her and burning her and the dark evils of nothing coming to claim her claim her claim her take her burn her kill her destroy her and--

Loud raucous laughter from the bar below shook Sera out of dissociation and bringing her back to reality. That was happening a lot these days--where she wasn’t quite sure where she was or what she was doing, and everything became the Fade again. Especially after the events at Adamant. She grudgingly made a mental note to talk to Dorian about it when he got back.

In the meantime, into the book the cards went.

Cards. Little worlds.

Her handwriting was a little shakier than normal, thanks to her little episode, but the words were there and that was what mattered. Suddenly exhausted, she stifled a yawn and set the book aside again. 

Sera’s hand groped for the Circle banner. It had had a nice weight to it, and she wondered if it was big enough to use as a blanket. It wasn’t, to her disappointment, but she wrapped it around her shoulders anyway and snuggled down into her pillows.

She’d finish writing down all her things tomorrow, after talking with Dorian a bit about weird brain stuff and a drink or two. It felt nice to have things, after living a life with nothing, and she wanted to savor it. 

 


End file.
